


winter hospitality

by IcyPassions



Series: Vignettes [3]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Cute, Extreme Fluff Overload, Feelings Realization, Fluff, Kinda, M/M, Oh yeah Lando is mildly anxious about all this, Sharing Body Heat, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Winter, and only one lounge chair, but that's just the muppet life, there's a blanket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23647081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPassions/pseuds/IcyPassions
Summary: Carlos's car slides off the icy road and into Lando's front yard, feat. Lando being a hospitable muppet and Carlos catching feelings
Relationships: Lando Norris & Carlos Sainz Jr
Series: Vignettes [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650694
Kudos: 42





	winter hospitality

**Author's Note:**

> Yes yes yes I know, I'm gonna update streetlights after this but I had to put this on pixels first
> 
> This work is entirely of fiction. Please don't share it outside of fanfiction circles!

Carlos’s hands fly across the wheel, trying desperately to regain control of his car on the icy roads as it breaks traction around a curve. The Spaniard has never seen such _revolting_ road conditions in his life. Mid-slide, he theorizes that maybe this is some sort of British citizenship test he was never told about. With one final kick back to the left, his car finally has had enough of the antics and pitches itself into the snow-filled ditch.

Many Spanish curses follow.

He looks to his left and there’s a house there ( _of COURSE there is_ ) and he’s slid straight across their front drive and into their yard. The people there now have a majestic grey Ford Mondeo as a lawn ornament.

_I am a freaking culo._

He grabs his phone from the passenger seat, and it’s dead. Carlos now has two options, both of which are pretty not good.

He can get out and try to dig himself out and look silly doing it.

Or…

He can ask the people inside to phone a tow truck and feel silly doing it.

He stares straight ahead weighing out the pros and cons.

But guess what, _it’s too late!_ Because out comes a younger man in a big fluffy coat who is no doubt wondering who’s behind the swift land invasion.

Carlos puffs out a held breath through his cheeks and lips, shuts the car off, and opens the door. He steps out and turns towards the man.

“I’m sorry for crashing in your yard.”

He just giggles. Mocking Carlos and his stupid little car and his stupid mistake and inability to handle a short drive to work.

“It’s alright. Would you like me to phone a tow truck?” he offers with a smile.

“Yes, please” Carlos says back with a smirk of guilt. Bless the man for saving him the question.

“Come inside, I’ll put the kettle on.”

Once inside, he hangs Carlos’s coat and shows him to the lounge. Carlos also kicks his shoes off. Without the giant coat hood up, the man’s mess of curls on his head are run amok from the static of it. He tries to mat them down but it’s futile.

He extracts his phone and dials the tow service while Carlos sits uncomfortably stiff in the large plushy rocking chair. The elder is trying not to invade the poor bloke’s home, too.

“Alright, they said they’re quite busy with other people doing what you did, so it might be a few hours. But I don’t mind, you seem nice.”

Carlos can’t formulate a response to the half-baked compliment(?) so he just nods in the curly man’s general direction.

“Oh, crap the kettle! Ah, man I’m sorry, just hold on, I’m gonna go put it on, ok? What kind of tea do you like?”

“You don’t have to do that, it’s- ”

“No, I insist. I never really get visitors so it’s no problem” he replies quickly.

Curly man suddenly slaps his forehead with his palm and squints his eyes. “Crap, I didn’t even introduce myself! I’m a horrible host,” he giggles to himself through a guilty smile. “I’m Lando. Who are you?”

“Carlos.”

“Good to meet you, Carlos. I’m gonna go put the kettle on. Make yourself comfy, you look like those rich people at fancy restaurants.”

Carlos sags back in the chair and _holy Jesus this is nice._ He sinks into its warmth and relaxes, smiling a little. There’s some racing on TV so he chooses a driver to latch his attention onto until the tea arrives.

It comes with about 15 laps to go. Lando shuffles into the lounge balancing two mugs in his hands and trying his hardest not to spill. A few drops still escape onto the carpet below.

“Ah, fudge” he remarks.

Carlos sits up and reaches out to grab his. He sips a tiny bit off the top to keep it from spilling more and _oh god that’s hot you are an idiot_ and he begins panting like a dog to rid his mouth of the heat. Lando can’t contain a loud, shrieking laugh at Carlos’s demise and ends up spilling about a quarter of his tea on the carpet. He eventually realizes what he’s done and decides it would be best to clean it up.

7 laps to go. Lando stows the carpet cleaning products away and finally sips his tea which is likely room temperature by now. Shane Van Gisbergen is leading the way by a wide margin but Carlos’s pick, Mark Winterbottom, is sitting in 2nd and closing quickly.

“Um… would you mind making room please?”

It snaps Carlos away from the race, and he does a retake of the lounge. This is the only chair.

“Yeah, I live alone. Didn’t think I would need a couch.”

Carlos figures it’s the least he can do for the hospitality. He scoots over to the right side and Lando slides down next to him.

For some reason it doesn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable to share a lounge chair with a complete stranger. Lando carries a presence he’s never felt before, one of levelheaded calm but joy and happiness off the charts. Despite meeting the goofy boy just a short while ago it feels like they’ve been best friends since birth and Carlos is racking his brain and partially panicking just trying to figure out what’s different about this and why he wants to get _closer_ to Lando, and suddenly Lando scoots up _even closer_ and sets his head on Carlos’s shoulder and _this kid can read minds_ and he hopes the tow truck doesn’t come any sooner than it needs. Let it tow all the cars across Britain before it comes here.

His entire body, from the core to every limb and every digit and through his brain, is flooded with warmth and softness on a scale he didn’t know possible. He can smell a light scent on Lando, it’s probably some generic “Sea Breeze” shampoo but it’s actually _really_ nice and it’s just fuel on the fire now.

Lando reaches over to the side of the chair, temporarily stripping away the warmth and leaving Carlos confusedly starving for it back. Luckily, he soon resurfaces with a big fluffy blanket and throws it over the two of them. He returns his head to Carlos’s shoulder and all is well again in the Spaniard’s world.

Until he lifts his head up again. “Crap, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I’m really touchy-feely and is this ok with you? If not I can go on the floor or some-”

“No, it’s ok, I like it!” Carlos cuts in to save the situation, offering a smile.

"That's good. You smell nice,” he remarks. “And you’re nice and warm.” Lando drops his head to the side again. He hums in content.

The race is over. Mark won, and he’s spraying champagne everywhere.

Carlos almost forgets his car is still in the yard.


End file.
